March 1 1847, By the First Post

by Eavan Boland

The daffodils are out &
how your would love the harebells by the Blackwater now. But Etty, you are wise to stay away. London may be dull in this season. Meath is no better I assure you. Your copper silk is sewn & will be sent and I envy you. Noone talks of anything but famine. I go nowhere– not from door to carriage–but a cloth sprinkled with bay rum & rose attar is pressed against my mouth. Our picnics by the river– remember that one with Major Harris?– our outings to the opera & our teas are over now for the time being. Shall I tell you what I saw of Friday, driving with Mama? A woman lying across the Kells Road with her baby– in full view. We had to go out of our way to get home & we were late & poor Mama was not herself all day.